The lonely string-less kite,
has no ambitions like a chartered flight,
yet she soars, aimless but high.
Fighting snarling trees,
And dark electric lines,
It s a peek-a-boo with death,
Banking on wind's soft breath.
Cut off from a mere mortal’s hand,
Her vagabond life is short,
But the flaps of freedom is dearer,
Than the string of eternity.